


Treading Lightly

by TheMiddleEast



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, all other relationships are pretty peripheral, beachhouse!reylo, i guess?, mostly central reylo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-01-26 16:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12561632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMiddleEast/pseuds/TheMiddleEast
Summary: Port Vincent, as the name would suggest, is a small (really, miniscule) port town a few hours away from any kind of civilisation that any other human would be more familiar with. Towns of one thousand people, max, were scattered down the peninsula, the kind of town where everybody knew everybody.orrey and ben grew up together, rey leaves to be an Adult and comes back after years to see what she left behind. (rating is for potential future chapters - this is mostly vanilla)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been stored away in my computer since at least late May/early June. I was sort of worried that no one would like it enough that it would make the effort I put into it seem worth it, but I'm sort of past that at this point. I hope at least one person enjoys this as much as I do. 
> 
> (note: I do have a bit more of this written, and if you (yes, you!) actually enjoy it, please let me know and I'll happily share the rest, and finish writing what I haven't yet completed. Kisses.)

**I**

 

Port Vincent, as the name would suggest, is a small (really, miniscule) port town a few hours away from any kind of civilisation that any other human would be more familiar with. Towns one thousand people, max, were scattered down the peninsula, the kind of town where everybody knew everybody.

Rey hadn’t been there since she was a little girl. Her grandfather Ben—her last living relative or the last one she had an ounce of feeling for—had been living there for seven years now. They moved from London to America together when Rey was just pushing five years old, and grandfather Ben’s old friends from before Rey’s time beckoned him to the port cities. Its allure was, quite predictably, that Port Vincent was everything that London was not. The air and skyline were crystal clear, the people were friendly, there was no rush, and Ben could finally do what he always wanted: sit peacefully on his porch overlooking the ocean, engrossed in his novels.

Rey loved it, too. Before her grandfather moved there permanently, they’d go vacationing there one or two times a year, when the weather is hot and the waves were blessings. Han and Leia, two of his oldest friends, were previously in a similar situation to the other pair, except they decided to permanently relocate from the city after the birth of their son. She remembered lying on their kitchen tiles when the temperature soared, before her age even hit the double digits and it wasn’t weird to roll around on the floor in her underwear. She’d go driving with Han in his bright orange, two door truck while he graded the sand in the early morning so the beach-goers could drive onto the sand with ease. She still remembers the prints her small hands left on the dirty windows.

She hadn’t been back since he took up permanent residence there. When she was fifteen.

The windows of the airplane were, on the contrary, pristine, and her now slender fingers fanning the pages of her book over and over, looking over the distant cars tracing to the airport. She looked for her grandfathers car, even though she knew he was probably already parked, at the gate, waiting.

When she was old and ugly enough, as her grandfather liked to say, he moved to Port Vincent when Rey was in her final year of college. There were no sentimental misgivings, she didn’t crave his presence during her final exams, but when she walked up to the podium and saw his greying hair and tearful smile down the aisles, she couldn’t help but mirror his emotion, the tightening of her chest reminding her of all he’s done, all of the happiness he’s given her.

Unlike then, with manners and protocol, she rockets across walkways, probably getting in peoples way and almost bowls her grandfather over, her arms tight around his shoulders. He laughs, cradling the back of her head in his wrinkled palm.

“Welcome home, Rey-Rey.”

 

 

It takes almost two hours to drive from the closest main city to the port cities, and Rey dozes on and off for approximately an hour and fifteen minutes of it. But in her slumber, she remembers how the high rises and shopping centres dwindle into farms, and stretches of empty land that never seems to stop. No trees, no fences, just grass and the horizon.

Soon, wheat fields turn into sand, and Rey can’t help winding down the car window and pulling herself upwards. Her bun starts to unravel, with unruly curls whipping against her forehead and cheeks with the speed of the car, and the sun bears down over face. She can only imagine the state her freckles will be in in a months time.

While it never appeared to be much from the outside, the cost of her grandfather’s beachfront shack was more than she would ever be able to conceptualise. It wasn’t stripped from the sun or weathered with water, it was structured, but it was small. The dark brown weatherboards of the house looked the same, and the accents of blue on the skirtings of the doors and across the railings made her last visit seem like last month, not years ago.

But it wasn’t this that made her choke on her next breath.

She lamented having to fly to the nearest city. It lay to rest her hopes of being able to lug her old pushbike to the beach like she did when she was little, and driving interstate was their only option. She got the hang of riding on the sand, and when her grandfather was too far gone into _A Tale of Two Cities_ or _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,_ she’d ride her bike down to the general store for ice cream—Han and Leia’s gangly but always kind son Ben frequently in tow.

But when her eye caught sight of an old vintage pushbike leaning innocently against the white and blue railing. Its main body was a bright yellow, with a tanned seat and handlebars that bowed into a deep U-shape. Unlike her old pushbike, it didn’t have tassels and a white wicker basket at the front. The handles were bare, and a black milk-crate was zip-tied to the rear of the bike, in lieu of a traditional basket.

It was perfect.

 

 

For the first few days, Rey did nothing but sleep, read and wander up and down the coastline. She already missed Finn and Poe, but she’d think back to her tiny dorm surrounded by people she never really liked, and the pressure she felt working night shifts to afford it. The diner downtown wasn’t awful, but she’d come home at 4am smelling like grease every night with a pathetic amount of tips and the knowledge that she’d be up again in three hours for class.

Somehow, she’d managed to keep her grades high enough to make the honour roll, and it’s the only thing she looks back on fondly—that frame piece of paper that now sits on her grandfathers mantelpiece—

 

_Rey Kenobi_

_Duly admitted,_

_Undergraduate Degree,_

_Literature and Theatre Studies._

Here, all she could smell was seaweed and clean air, and she let it sink into her shoulders and guide her further down the coast. If she turned around, she couldn’t see the house anymore. 

 

 

It was early morning; early enough that the horizon outside was still a dark, purpleish blue. The springs inside her mattress dug uncomfortably into the backs of her freckled thighs, only just. Although her mattress was supported by no frame, laying flat across her floorboards, her sheets were soft, nicer looking and feeling than what she payed for them. The plush white surface beckoned her forward, and running her hand across the bumps and folds of the bedding, she could still feel like spot where she rested for the past seven hours. She puffed a small, tired sigh, the burst of air pushing her hair aside just slightly: a darker, mousy brown, the gentle waves grazing her cheek, before falling and brushing the skin just below her clavicle. She stretched languidly over the expanse of her bed, fishing her phone out from beneath the abandoned, unused second pillow of her double bed.

Her legs—long, but not offering a great amount to her general height—swung out from the covers, laying straight in front of her so her heels dug in to the floor, toes to the ceiling. She pushed her shoulders back, extended her spine, accentuating the barely-there mounds on her chest from under her tight white singlet, riding up her waist after the throws of slumber. She raised her arms to the ceiling, shoulder width apart, and allowed her expression to settle into zen. The streetlights outside cast a blue-grey shadow over her face: her pointed nose, her high cheekbones and sharp eyes. Her lashes lay thick over her gently freckled cheeks, her lips turning upwards every so slightly as she slowly inclined forward, her hair now concealing her face from the early, early morning glare. It was a slow movement, bowing herself in half, and she concentrated on the fading, but ever-present protest of her hamstrings as she wrapped her palms around the soles of her feet.

She sat like that for a few seconds, flexing her feet to the wall, to the ceiling, before she silently unfolded herself, rising to the balls of her feet. For a few more moments she held herself upright, almost a tree pose, but with both feet planted firmly on the ground. She felt the gentle, oncoming breeze lick against her exposed skin. The hem of her singlet, clinging to every plane and slight curve, now rest against her jutting hip bones, but the skin of her bottom half, covered in nothing but a pair of black panties became textured, goosebumps and hairs raising. She then broke concentration, wondering how much time has passed. Her hands heavily fell from above her head to her sides, and keeping with that momentum, she maintained a soft bounce as she moved towards her dresser, throwing on a dress that looked more like a men’s oversized linen button down, but the morning was already warm, clinging to her skin that had already embraced the change in weather—her freckles now standing proud against her tanned limbs.

Quietly, she stepped out of her room, composed just the same as it was all those years ago, and padded out into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

The sun had begun its ascent once she opened the door—she noticed that her grandfather continues to forgo utilising the lock—and as she settled into those old, familiar torn up armchairs on the porch, she watched as the shone pink and orange, reflecting against the morning waves.

Intermittently, she’d close her eyes and focus on nothing but the dry heat that settled over her skin, spreading across her exposed clavicles and up her slender neck. She hadn’t tied her hair up yet, and she started to notice the moisture building up at the back of her neck, her hair starting to stick to it. Slowly opening and closing her eyes every so often, she didn’t fail to appreciate the whirlpools of colour in the sky intermingling with the blue and whites of crashing waves, and pictured her alternative. A suspicious brown stain on her cream dormitory ceiling, that distinct stale smell and rambunctious chatter of drunken graduates.

She lingered in the moment, her hands grazing over the hot porcelain mug in her lap until the porch steps to her right gave out a creak.

She heard the voice before she opened her eyes in time, and for a split second, she wondered who else would be awake at such a time on a Sunday morning. “My, my,” an old, familiar voice mused, and Rey had to squint against the sun before she fully realised who stood before her. Tall, and still as handsome as she remembered. His arm circled around a woman almost levelling his ribs, but still as tall and proud as he. The dawn glowed around them, illuminating their greying hair wisping around in the morning breeze, and Rey felt her heart soar in her chest.

She rose to her feet without a word, placing her mug down on the ledge of the railing and embraced the two at once, her head between their shoulders. It didn’t take long for her grandfather to rise after that, trudging out from the house, still warm from sleep but with that same, fulfilled smile he’s been wearing since Rey’s plane touched down. They all pulled up chairs and talked—talked about the port, how a huge storm came in not two weeks ago and knocked chunks of the pier down. People still walk down it, Han said, and she could imagine that his time spent fishing has dropped exponentially, but they just sit with their feet hanging off the edge. When she was younger, her grandfather and Han would sit at the end of the pier for hours—waking up before dawn to cast their nets out until well in the afternoon. Ever since the storm, Han dusted off his old boat—the Falcon, as the silver nameplate across the boats side indicated—and they’ve somewhat rectified the situation since. Leia, on the other hand, has spent most of her time getting in contact with the business owners around town, trying to pool in enough money to get both the pier and the roads cleaned up after the storm. Rey didn’t see any, but Leia described walking out the next morning, trees standing diagonally, branches through car windscreens and signs blown every which way.

They spoke about Rey’s graduation and _oh you looked so beautiful in blue,_ and _your grandfather recorded your speech and even Han couldn’t contain himself—_ Rey snorted and Han made a gruff, dismissive noise in the back of his throat, and before he could derail the conversation himself, all four heads turned as the sound of water dropping onto the deck, a distinctive _tut, tut, tut_ grew closer.

She knew that he must be much older now, but it was hard to tell like this. He must have just come out of the water, his distinctive curls somewhat flattened but still noticeable by his semi dried ends, curls starting to materialise and frame his face. Leia was right, he did eventually grow into his features, although unchanging the peculiarity of his general appearance. While his ears were still bigger than most, especially now with his flattened hair, they didn’t draw the eye as much as they used to. His nose was large, and still remains the first thing she notices when she sees him, but the rest of his face seemed to level out alongside it, accommodating for its side with smooth, high cheekbones and a strong jaw. There’s still a distinctive bump in the centre of his nose bridge, and while she remembers the way it casts a deeper shadow against his deep set eyes, in the early morning sun (now fully risen), his face is bright, smiling, and she could count each individual mole and freckle across his profile with ease, if given the time.

He didn’t seem to anticipate her presence, looking towards the chair as if he were about to occupy it himself, but falling short. For a moment, he seemed lost, but when he went back a step on the porch to rest his surfboard against the outside railings—she only just noticed he was carrying it at all—he looked right at her, and breathed a gentle, “Rey.”

It was a strange moment, she thought, thinking back to when she was eight and he had just turned sixteen—limbs too long for him to coordinate, and comical features that would have drawn criticism if he lived anywhere else other than here. There weren’t many other kids, and, as far as she know, he never formally attended any school for any bullying to occur. However, even now, she never let that diminish her opinion of him. Many of those who she would hesitantly call friends now back in the city would openly scoff and question how one could get through life without a formal education. But she’d look between the three—Ben, Han and Leia, and she knew there would be no way that it would end badly from there.

He taught her a lot of things. It was really Ben who helped her get used to riding a bike, and when she was a little older and mustered more strength, she took to the waves with him.

She always thought he was a little weird looking, and told him that from time to time. He was never offended, never pushed her away. He’d just smile and say, “You’re not quite the looker either, sunshine. 

Now, he looks much more like Han than she’d probably care to admit.

She rose with much less urgency than she did greeting his parents, but she was far more timid. He was dripping wet, and for a moment, she hesitated in her move to wrap her arms around him, and he noticed. His arms were halfway up, ready to reciprocate, and he cocked an eyebrow at her sudden withdrawal, that same mischievous look he’d given her time and time again. She grinned, and decidedly pushed herself forward, her thin linen sleeves immediately soaking up the droplets of water clinging to his skin, and he didn’t seem to hesitate in wrapping his own arms around her shoulders, his far superior height allowing him to rest his chin against the crown of her head. She shivered as she felt droplets run down her spine.

“Hi, Ben,” she said softly, squeezing tight.

 

 

After the period of catching up on her porch, Ben insisted that she comes surfing _this instant,_ as if she needed to be baptised back into the town. It didn’t take much for her to follow, nothing more than Ben grabbing her shoulders and wheeling her away, hollering out to her grandfather that they’d be back soon.

Han and Leia only lived a few doors down, and Rey instinctually turned into their small driveway once they passed, but Ben shook his head and kept walking forward.

“I’ve got my own place now. 

Rey raised her eyebrows, skipping forward a little bit to keep up with his long strides. “Baby boy Benny has grown up proper, hey?” She grinned, nudging his arm with hers.

He had to look down a bit to look at her properly, and the persistent breeze ruffled his now dried curls, wisping in front of his eyes, returning her grin in kind. Like they were kids again, he nudged her back, and soon they engaged in a brief competition to see who could knock the other from the path first. With his superior height and (clearly) strength, Rey stumbled, and with a yelp she started falling, but Ben’s arm shot out and wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side with a victorious smile. She grimaced, lips pressed firmly together. Her cheeks already hurt from smiling, and she can’t believe she’s been away from this place for this long.

Ben, after all this time, still seemed to understand her silence. With his arm still firmly around her shoulders (her arm now wound around his back), he wedged his cheek against her head and said, “It’s good to have you back, kid.”

The afternoon would find them in the water. Despite her rustiness, Rey managed to hold her own against a few waves, taking turns with Ben just in case she nose dived. When it was his turn, she appreciated the way that his body moved with the current, the tell tale signs of how much he’s grown. He’s a man now, Rey mused. He’d almost be thirty by now.

He weaved through the waves with grace and confidence, and she’d much rather stay where she is now, perched on Ben’s spare board, knees apart with her feet in the water, holding herself up with her hands behind her, watching him. For a moment, her mind went back to Poe and Finn, and she wondered if they’ve left her any messages—she hasn’t switched her phone on since her flight landed, too engrossed in reuniting with her family—and realised how different it felt to be around Ben. Though completely different now, the childish smiles and banter that characterised her childhood is ever present now. Though his voice was deeper, her name still sounded the same on his lips, and she feels just as comfortable in his presence than she did all those years ago.

She sat up a bit straighter, and was just in time to watch stack it. The wave wasn’t the biggest they’ve had today, but he must have slipped or misplaced his dominant foot. He shot up in the air for a second before the wave crashed down around him, flinging his board sharply to the left and plunging him deep underwater.

It was quiet for a few moments, and Rey felt a small ball of worry form in her chest, waiting to see that dark mop of hair poke out from the water. She was about to orient herself to paddle out further to see if she could spot him before she heard a loud, deprecating groan.

She smiled, the apples of her speckled cheeks red and shiny from the sun, and began to paddle to swivel her board around the right way. Back when this was the norm for her, she hated herself for her lack of _anything_ in the chest department, but now she was thankful as she laid chest down and began to paddle out further where the water was foaming around Ben’s bobbing head. When she reached him, he was floating on his back, and upon noticing her presence he turned and, without disrupting the centre of gravity too much, hauled himself up behind her, his thighs bracketing hers.

“You alright there, Benny?” Her voice was high spirited, higher than its been since graduation, and it was just as soaked with jest as Ben was soaked to the bone. 

“On our journey to rescue your board, let us just count how many times the other has eaten shit on the water—“ She mused when he didn’t answer her, giving her shoulder a playful shove and a faint _oh, fuck off—_ “Me, Rey. Rey Kenobi, has not seen an open body of water in approximately six years: zero. You, Be—”

Before she finished her sentence, he’d wrapped his arms around her and hauled her off the side of the board, splashing unceremoniously into the open water with an indignant yelp and flailing limbs. There was no other sound in the early morning but the splash, and the tendrils of water spiking up before fizzing, levelling down.

She bobbed to the surface faster than he did, and he didn’t waste time in holding his hand out for her to grasp, hauling her back up as quickly as he pushed her down. She was muttering to herself the whole way up, calling him rude and _should’ve left you on your ass, you’re lucky I respect and fear your mother equally enough that I wouldn’t want to go back with your board and nothing else—"_

“Come on,” Ben urged, scooting up a little further, prompting her to paddle with him. “I’m getting hungry.”

 

 

He made a habit of interrupting her in the morning, whether it’s her drinking tea with her grandfather or mid-meditation. This morning, it was the latter. Rey was perched on a towel (she forgot her yoga mat) in the lotus pose. Her cut off tank top covering nothing but her black two-piece emphasised her posture, tuned and refined with years of practice and a fervent desire to be just a _little_ bit taller.

Her hair brushed against her shoulders, and she smiled with the gentle breeze. It tickled her somewhat, and she twitched in slight discomfort. There must be bugs, she thought, wanting to badly swat at whatever was crawling up her legs, her sides, but not wanting to break pose. It wasn’t until whatever it was started crawling up the sensitive part of her neck did she lose composure, one of her legs unfolding from the other and flailing a little to scare it off, but her hand slapped against something hard and definitely _not_ a bug.

Her eyes snapped open, and Ben squawked, rubbing his cheek, face like a wounded dog.

“Christ, watch it!”

Rey was momentarily startled, but allowed the corners of her mouth to turn upwards in smug amusement at the wounded look on his face. She brushed down the spots that still tingled with his touch, and alternated between avoiding his gaze and looking at him too much. Abandoning on finishing her set, she unfurled herself from her spot on the porch, shook off the towel and draped it over the railings. “Coffee?”

Ben shook his head, still nursing his cheek. “Can’t, I’ve got a class in 5,” Rey slapped his hand away, narrowing her eyes slightly, _don’t be a baby,_ and was given a smug look in return. “10’s and up. We might actually get a few to stand on the board today.” His voice was proud, and his expression did nothing but bolster it. “Want to come watch? They can probably teach you a thing or two.”

“Always the charmer,” she grumbled. The day after Ben fell from grace on the board, Rey couldn’t manage to get up once. They were out there for over two hours, and every time Rey managed a solid stance, feeling the resistance of the soles of her feet against the surface, the momentum of the wave always managed to throw her off guard. She could still taste the salt water in her nose. “I’d love to accompany you and be incessantly ridiculed,” she gave him the thousand yard stare as she pulled her loose locks up into a bun, his bright eyes looking back at her in amusement, arms crossed and leaning against the beam, connecting the porch to the corrugated iron cover, watching her. “I can’t, I’m going to help your mum at the bakery.”

He screwed his face up at that. “I always knew you liked her more than me.”

“Think of it as sisterly solidarity,” she leaned over to grab her denim shorts that she hung over the back of one of the armchairs, pulling them over her swimming bottoms. “She feeds me, keeps me busy and tells me all of your dirty teenage secrets.”

His confidence washes away, eyes wide. “What’s she told you?” She slides her feet into her flip flops, and gives Ben’s shoulder a pat on her way down the steps. He turns around in a flash, “If it’s about the stains on the underside of the desk in the study then she’s a _dirty lia—_ Rey! _Rey!”_

She laughed into her hand and she made her way down their street, heading towards the main strip.

“ _You better spit it out, kid!”_

 

 

She leaned her bright yellow bike against the outside of the bakery. She went without a lock, as most people didn’t bother locking up their homes, let alone their bikes.

Although they were only neighbours, Leia was the one who taught Rey everything that her mother was never around to. When she was up to her grandfathers hip and her hair was still an youthful golden brown, she’d crowd into Leia’s small kitchen and she’d learn how to make croissants. She’d stand on a stool next to Leia—though she wasn’t never vertically blessed and never will be—and watched the way her fingers would roll, turn, fold, roll, turn, fold the dough against their speckled countertop, spreading a small layer of butter, and sometimes berry preserves with every fold. After a while, Leia would stop and stand behind Rey, her hands resting on her narrow shoulders, watching. Rey never saw her smile: small, wistful and gleaming.

It was like no time passed at all, except Rey was a little taller, and Leia was much, much smaller. Her hands still outperformed Rey’s, but now the brunettes handiwork was much less inexpert and a little more respectable. The younger girl who usually works with Leia—Kaydel, Rey thinks—had called in sick with a fever, and the older woman was very particular with the people she let behind the counter. Not even Han.

Her faux basket was overfilling with small ferns and cactuses from the woman a few doors down at the pharmacy. When she left, she had to balance the fresh tray of bagels that Leia had gifted her on top, looping the sleeves of her abandoned sweatshirt through the gaps in the crate to secure it in. She avoided the rockiest parts of the gravel road, and before she had time to slow her pedalling and retreat into her bedroom, a little further down she spotted Ben on his porch, mug in hand, looking out to the sea.

She couldn’t stop the smile that blossomed over her face. She kept pedalling, paying little mind to the flutter in her chest, writing it off as exertion.

That night, they sprawled out on Ben’s white and red striped two seater, legs entangled in the middle and tearing apart bagels, tearing off sections and trying to land them in each others mouths. Once they polished off half the tray, they settled. He’d tell her about his classes, the book he was reading, _À rebours_ , and they channel surfed until she settled on The Blues Brothers.

With his arm draped around her shoulders, her head wedged underneath his chin, with _Minnie the Moocher_ ringing through the house, they fell asleep.

Later that evening, she was pulled by the moon, along with the tide, from her slumber. She felt a crick in her neck, and her calves cramped uncomfortably, but the room was warm and smelled of cedar. Ben must have turned off the television while she was still passed out—the room was mostly dark, the only source of light coming from the streetlamps beyond the bay window at the front of the house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, strangers. 
> 
> Although not many people seem to be interested in this story, I put a lot of heart into it and I am quite happy with what I have written. I'll be transparent with you all, I kind of fell off the Reylo bandwagon for a little bit after the hype for TFA died down, and after TLJ, surprisingly, I did not find myself all too inspired. I even forgot about all this that I had written. But, on a whim, I checked my account and saw some lovely comments from people who still wanted more of this. I really appreciate your kind words. I do really want to continue this, but I say that every chapter in everything that I write. I hope I see you all soon with more. 
> 
> Let me know what you think of this. It was a lot of fun to write. Kisses.

_“You never told us you had a beach house fling when you were younger,”_ Poe said through the phone, his words only just reaching Rey’s ears through the incessant chewing noises coming from nearby, probably Finn.

She was laying on her bed, hair splaying out around her. When she was away from the city, she found herself inclined to keep it down, not worrying so much about looking a bit more put together, and allowing her waves to do their thing. She had her feet up against the wall, and shuffled them from side to side: toes out heels together, shift, toes together heels apart.

“If by younger, you’re referring to when I was just passing the brink of puberty, you’re more sick than I realised,” She said, the hand not holding her phone to her ear thrown over her head, twirling her hair around her index finger.

“ _Mmhmm_ ,” he said, unconvinced. _“How are you going now? Is the fresh air helping you_ relax _?”_ He said, and she could imagine his bushy eyebrows bouncing on his face, tone laden in innuendo. He heard Finn snort in the distance with a quiet protest of _let me talk to her._

“Why yes, my meditation and yoga is going wonderfully Poe. You know, it’s so considerate for you to ask. I can do the king pigeon pose now, and I’m getting closer to being able to sta—” 

She stopped when the audio started crackling, intermingling with lovingly veiled threats and gentle slapping when Finn’s comforting voice took over the line.

_“How are you doing, peanut?”_

The honesty in his voice always rang truer than Poe’s. She had known the pair for a long time now. They had all taken the same theatre class in their second year, which culminated in an excessive amateur but decent adaptation of _Waiting for Godot._ They crossed paths in various other performance classes throughout their degrees, and eventually, Finn and Rey wrote large portions of their thesis’ together in camaraderie.

People asked her how she put up with the two of them; they were one of the most intensely affectionate couples she’s ever had the luck to endure, and while it made movie nights a bit awkward, they never ignored her, never forgot her presence, and never let her go unappreciated.

“Good,” Rey responded earnestly. “Seeing pop again was long overdue, and I don’t want to leave. And,” she sunk deeper into her covers, the corners of her mouth upturning, “it’s so good to be near the water again. I didn’t realise how much I missed it until now.”

_“I’m glad you’re happy, Rey, you deserve it. I know it was hard for you in the city… and… uh—”_

  _“Yes?”_

“ _This guy?”_

“Good _bye,_ Finn,” Exasperated, she sat up, flipping her bangs over her head, and she felt a dull pressure against the back of her head. She turned and saw Ben lingering in her doorway, his hair half tied up in a bun, looking at the floor somewhere between her and him. He looked up at the lapse in conversation and gave a small smile that didn’t really reach his eyes, which, she noticed, were framed with a pair of glasses. He jerked his head in the general direction of the kitchen. Rey nodded. “Dinner’s ready. I’ll message you after?”

He sighed, but obliged. “ _Okay, peanut. Love you.”_

“Love you too.” She said softly, pulling the phone into her lap and watching as her contact photo of Fin, unconscious backstage with eyeliner and lipstick doodles all over his face, faded to black. With a sad smile on her face, she threw her phone into the mounds of her covers. She felt his absence sorely. 

When she stood up, Ben wasn’t waiting for her, but she could spot him in the kitchen, his back to her. She walked softly across the floorboards, stepping on all the points she remembered didn’t creak as much, just as she did the first morning she arrived. She could hear her grandfather, Han and Leia laughing outside, the faint sparks and spatters of their open fire racing past the high windows. She tiptoed until she was standing half a foot behind Ben, too short to peer over his shoulder but looking around his arm. He was transferring cooked food to metal trays, things that wouldn’t break in case someone (him) dropped them against the gravel. His movements were jerked, and even a little bit agitated, but Rey brushed it off, thinking the food was still too hot for his bare fingers. In one quick moment, she rest her head against the curve of his bicep and placed her hand on his shoulder blades. “What’s happening, pumpkin?”

He didn’t jump, but his shoulders jerked in surprise, looking down to his right, before looking to his left, a small, relieved smile spreading across his face. She noticed, however, it was still a bit strained, and his eyes didn’t shine in the dim light like they usually do. Wordlessly, he turned back to the task in front of him, sectioning things off and piling vegetables upon vegetables onto the trays.

It was on the tip of her tongue, _are you feeling okay,_ before he turned to her, passing her one of the trays and taking the other two for himself. Balancing them on both hands, Rey moved to open the fly screen door with her free hand, standing just out of the way so Ben could squeeze through. She didn’t take her eyes off him, however, and noticed the way all his features had seemed to have drooped ever so slightly. He hadn’t mentioned anything. She knew that some of the mothers of his students could get difficult, and sometimes even a completely different kind of difficult. She’s noticed the way a lot of the girls in town look at him, and for good reason, so she wasn’t completely surprised when he would tell her harrowing tales of mothers groping him, or watching him, wet and shirtless on the beach with no guard or shame, even in front of their children and husbands.

Her eyes lingered on him now, wondering if she could see past Ben, the lanky boy who taught her how to surf and skate, who she’d turn to whenever she needed anything, the boy who’d come straight to her, eyes red and shoulders sloped when everyone on the street could hear the yelling, Han’s car door slamming and the piercing sound of an engine roaring to life at 3am. She tried to see past that, and see the Ben that other people see.

She had never seen him so muscular, and she put that down to the fact that there weren’t unlimited hands in Port Vincent when it came to town maintenance. He was always an active, uncontrollable kid, and wasn’t entirely surprised that it showed even through age. His jaw was sharp, but still covered in moles and freckles that she adored. She traced them with her eyes, from his temples, to his cheekbones, to the little cluster of them spattered around the bridge of his nose, and down to the one intercepting the line between the skin below his nose and his cupids bow. His lips were full, flushed a deep pink, and she wonders if he was biting them earlier. Like he knew what she was thinking, he caught her eye, his tongue dipping out of his mouth nervously to wet the flesh of his lip, and Rey watched as the lampposts on the other side of the road leading down to the bay reflected a warm orange off the slick skin. His eyes were wide, chocolate brown irises framed by plush, dark lashes, and it wasn’t until Rey felt her chest starting to flush that she motioned for him to go, still holding the door open for him.

“Ladies first,” she said, and Ben almost missed it. He remained still for a moment, trying to catch her eye when she was looking anywhere but him. He nudged his feet against hers, and they locked eyes. She smiled.

“Thanks, sunshine.”

They all ate and sat around the open fire for hours. Rey sat next to her grandfather on a huge piece of driftwood that had somehow made it up the sand dunes. Han, Leia and Ben sat opposite them on fold out chairs they brought from home, the couple with their chairs closer together, and Ben off to the side, directly diagonal from Rey.

 “So, I had to carry this sorry kids ass to the clinic because he thought it would be a good idea to pick a fight with this goddamn crab, and you’ve seen the size those things get around here, right? Rey, you remember—”

 The brunette raised her left hand, brandishing the scar that she was left with after an altercation with said crustacean when she was 6. The crab’s claws almost severed the webbing between her thumb and forefinger entirely, and the mark still looked shiny and pink now.

Han grinned, pointing at her, before explaining how he had to find the kids mother and tell her son that he got into a fight, no, no, not with the boys from the school, no, please, let me finish. Rey’s eyes started to wander, ghosting over the fire and the cinders that rose into the stars. She leaned back on the wood briefly, admiring how brightly the stars shone out here with no interference, and she could have sworn she could see galaxies light years away.

When she looked back, she noticed Ben, huddled up in his own chair, resting his chin against the heel of his hand, looking at her. She raised an eyebrow. 

The man shrugged his shoulders, his eyes blinking, but unwavering.

She darted her eyes towards the shore, despite the fact that it was almost completely dark outside, and that the night brought with it a cold and sharp breeze. She jerked her head slightly, to punctuate her point. When he nodded, they both stood and walked slowly towards the mouth of the trail, giving the older three a nod as they left, walking slowly, shoulder to shoulder.

Despite that it was late, and there weren’t that many people in Port Vincent to begin with, Rey was surprised that it was just her and Ben on the beach. As far as the eye could see, the banks of sand and seaweed washed ashore were their company, and as the night stretched on, the water flattened, an almost perfect, only slightly rippled reflection of the moon shining on the water.

 “Why didn’t you come back sooner?” Ben would ask after they’d sat down a few feat from where the tide was hitting. Seaweed and washed up stones blocked off edges of the main tide around them, causing the waves to come in in a crescent shape around them.

His voice was strong over the sounds of the waves, not allowing it to get lost amongst the ambient sounds. He didn’t look at her, but across the water, absentmindedly pulling the sleeves of his pullover jumper, a navy blue that meshed with the water.

She didn’t know how to respond to that, didn’t know how to begin. She pointedly refused to meet his eyes that slowly moved towards her, anticipating her response. She watched her fingers as she tugged at her own sleeves—bright yellow, another one of his jumpers—and tried to think of a way to describe something that had no characteristics to refer to. She thought back to those nights at the dorm, resting for three hours a night if she was lucky, spending most of her time in a classroom or in the diner to keep up with rent. Uncle Ben wasn’t strapped for cash, but it was something she refused to take from him out of pride. It was her decision to stay in the city and finish her degree, and from that it seemed only logical to provide for herself. She couldn’t imagine taking money from a man that she would have struggled to keep in a constant stream of contact with, something that still ached in her chest when she thought of now. One or two times every fortnight, exchanging phone calls all to do about nothing, nothing that satisfied their grief from being separated from their only living relatives. He helped her with her student invoices, but those only got her so far, and keeping her grades high enough to qualify for funding on top of her rent exhausted every drop of energy she had, all ounce of sentimentality. Looking back, she wondered if it was all worth it. She thought of Finn and Poe, loving, but aware that neither of them could fill the gap. It wasn’t a gap necessarily contingent upon this place, but she knew it was better than what she had, and the city became a self inflicted wound, a burning temptation that she couldn’t kick.

The wind started to howl against her ears.

“I don’t know,” her tone gave her away, it was clear that there was much more than that to say. “I… I guess I just didn’t have the time.”

“My parents missed you.” His voice was firm, not quite blunt, but unyielding. “Your grandfather missed you.”

 _Did_ you _miss me?_

“I missed them too.” It was her voice that got lost amongst the waves.

 But Ben was clearly listening. Expecting a reason. “Clearly not enough.”

She turned to him, and her eyes narrowed, both slightly hurt and equally annoyed. The tenor of her tone and the wind blowing in her hair detracted from any agency she tried to take, but at least her voice didn’t crack. “Don’t.”

“You’re everything to him, Rey,” His voice was rising, but not enough to be frightening. His anger had firmness to it, and something much worse than rage, disappointment. Rey felt scandalised, half turned to ask him _who the hell_ he thinks he is lecturing her about what her family means to her, when his next mutter stopped her. “You were like a daughter to Han and Leia.” 

Even the waves seemed to stop for a moment. The plethora of connotations that that single statement could hold sent Rey’s head spinning.

The breeze now hit hard, cold and unrelenting. It whipped her hair from her face, and she could feel the moisture building up in the corners of her eyes. While her visits now were far and away, before school or university was an issue, she’d spend every moment she could in Port Vincent. She couldn’t belie his words. She felt something for the Solo’s that she could only describe in the same way that she’d talk about her grandfather. The word _were_ seemed to prove that, leaving her with a pain in her chest, a feeling of overwhelming loss.

Then her mother’s absence left her feeling cold, and she mourned the possibility of her departure doing the same to them.

She knew if she let herself dwell on it any longer, she’d think of the implications of the word _daughter_ between her and Ben, but she didn’t go that far.

It was all too much for her then. Her jaw was aching with the intensity of trying to calm herself, to bite her tongue, to refrain from lashing out in both anger and despondency. She sat there, his eyes stern and unmoving from her face, and his stillness infuriated her as she trembled. 

Without a word, but with one last withering look she unfolded her legs and stood from the sand. She could feel it sticking to the back of her thighs, bit it didn’t occur to her to care. She felt suffocated, the air felt wet and her cheeks were flushed. She looked down at the way his sleeves hung hilariously low on her, and a sickness coiled itself in her stomach as she tried to wrestle it over her head, to get it off her. The material covering her face distracted her from the wounded look on Ben’s face as she yanked it away from her body.

 When she got the bulk of the sweater over her head, a crack of thunder almost propelled her back onto the sand. She froze, and the sweater fell back around her neck, but stopping just below her chest. With wide eyes, she looked to the sky, and it lit up.

“Shit,” she heard him murmur as the first drop of rain landed on the lens of his glasses. He shot up next to her, but moved faster than her. They had wandered a fair way down the coast, and the fire outside her grandfather’s house was just a glowing speck in the distance.

“Come on, quick, before it hits.” He urged, but it was a bit too late for that. They both watched as the oncoming rain started far back against the horizon on the water, disrupting its eerie stillness with clusters of piercing droplets. 

It got louder and louder, encroaching upon the bay faster than either of them anticipated. Ben grabbed her wrist and yanked her up the sand dune, and she would have tripped, weren’t it for Ben hauling her over by her armpits. 

The sprint back to Ben’s home didn’t take as long as Rey anticipated, but the soles of her feet ached and her clothes clung to her wet skin. Their pants were almost indistinguishable against the thunder and the sound of rain slapping against tarmac, but their shoulders were hunched, trying to even their breathing underneath the cover of Ben’s porch.

She couldn’t see his eyes through his glasses, fogged and spattered with rain, but his gaze still made her shoulders stiff, her stomach lurching with something dark and unfamiliar. She couldn’t bear it.

Tearing the jumper off of her head in one fluid motion—it still hung strangely over her frame from earlier—she balled up the wet heap of fabric and shoved it into his chest before turning her back to him, cautiously descending down the stairs and towards her grandfathers shack. She didn’t look back. If she did, she’d see him, knuckles white and bony, shivering in the cold, clutched around the wet fabric, watching her as she went.


End file.
